


traces

by eomerking



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post 2.16, bell is just really co-dependent ok, but w/e, it's really only Bellarke if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 06:08:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3680862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eomerking/pseuds/eomerking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Promt fill; After Clarke leaves and disappears into the forest. During the day Bellamy leads and protects the camp, but each night after everyone falls asleep he goes out into the forest in search of Clarke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	traces

**Author's Note:**

> so the prompt's off mrs-bellamyblake of tumblr, and i'm pretty sure that i haven't done it justice, but it's been sat on my laptop for ages and i can't fiddle with it anymore, so have at it.
> 
> every mistake is entirely my own and i apologise

Bellamy tries to fool himself into thinking that he doesn’t tell anyone else because it’s still dangerous outside Camp Jaha, and he should be the only one going after her, because he’s the one who let her go.

During the day, the 48 – but it’s less than that now, so much less - look to him for command. He tries to give them what they need, rousing speeches and a firm hand, but everything he does feels empty, convictionless. Who is he trying to fool? The only time he ever achieved something was when Clarke was there to help him. Even when he was alone in Mount Weather, he wasn’t _alone_ because she was just on the other side of a radio. Without her to balance him out, his words fall flat and a firm hand seems harsh.

Clarke was gentle words and soft touches, hiding a hurricane of power and devastation.

Bellamy is a façade of aggression and violence to cover up the fact that, really, he’s still the scared seven year old boy that held his sister in his arms for the first time and felt his world begin and end at the same time.

Octavia scoffs every time she hears Clarke’s name. She still wears the dark paint of the Grounders, and her snarls make her seem like even more of one of them. To everyone that will listen, Octavia tells them of betrayal and lost loyalties, grinding Clarke’s name into the dust. She stops when Bellamy nears, but only to smile nastily and ask where his princess is.

Bellamy has tried to tell her that he shoulders as much blame for the death as Clarke does, but Octavia doesn’t care for the three-hundred souls of Mount Weather. The crater of Ton DC has been gouged into his sister’s heart.

Once, he would have asked Monty and Jasper, usually so eager to rescue, to help. But now Monty is stuck to Harper’s side, not daring to look anyone in the eyes. He pulls his cardigan tight around him, his hair hanging low over his eyes, flinches whenever there’s a shout. During the night he sleeps next to Harper, and their sobs echo over the camp.

Jasper is no better. He is angry and hurt, because although he blames Clarke, he can’t forgive himself for not moving faster, for not being better, for not being able to kill Cage. No one dares mention Clarke in front of Jasper. He turns white with anger, and walks away so quickly that dust kicks up at his heels. There’s a room in the ark that’s so badly damaged and mangled that no one bothers going in there. Bellamy had followed Jasper to it once, and had ducked in it once the boy had left, finding it much more mangled than it had been.

He doesn’t dare to ask Raven. She’s always been strong, so strong, able to take anything that this ducked up world throws at her. But she would not be able to help him, not now. Drilling is not the only thing that left a mark on her. In a drunken moment, she confessed to him that she still feels it, burrowing under her skin. Only Wick can quiet the tremors, with a sharp grin and a joke that is lost on all of them, but to the two people that share it.

Abby mourns her daughter as if she’s dead, unable to reconcile Clarke’s actions with the image she forever keeps of her child – young and innocent. It does no one any good to remind her that it was because of _her,_ that Clarke’s hands are drenched in so much blood. Kane helps, his presence calming to all. The people of the ark, those who are left, listen to him without hesitation. Falling back into old routines, castes and rankings.

Things are muddied on earth, but not enough to erase a hundred years of social segregation.

There is no one Bellamy can turn to, no one he can ask – _beg_ – to help him. Not even Miller, his second for those long weeks. He sticks with his people, be it the delinquents, or by his father and the guards. He doesn’t seem comfortable in either group, having seen too much, but still unable to admit that it affects him.

So Bellamy strikes out alone. He knows the path the electricity takes through the fences, knows which parts he can block off during the day, rags and weeds carving out a section wide enough for him to climb through. He takes a different direction each night, walking until the moon reaches its peak in the sky. He turns back after that, walking fast so that he may sleep for a little while before the new day begins. Before the routine starts up again, and he spends the hours of daylight waiting for the sun to set.

Before he can leave again, trying, so desperately, to find any trace of Clarke that there might be.

He hasn’t found any yet.

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                        

               


End file.
